


like gods at the dawning of the world

by tjhammond



Category: Football RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: Fluff, Kinda, M/M, i don't know what's going on, it has a happy ending?, it's fuckin cheesy as shit, it's more angsty tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-29
Updated: 2014-08-29
Packaged: 2018-02-14 23:35:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2207286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tjhammond/pseuds/tjhammond
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mario leaves, Marco's a mess, and somehow it all turns out okay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	like gods at the dawning of the world

**Author's Note:**

> ok so the timeline of this is completely made up (but it does take place just after mario leaves dortmund) as is the bayern-dortmund game because hell if i remember what happened in it. so we're just gonna say that-well. read the fic and you'll see what i'm talking about. warning: i overuse the slash through and parenthesis in this. i guess it's kinda angsty? but there's a happy and completely cliche ending. title taken from one of my favorite quotes. (disclaimer: i do not own these people and this is a work of fiction)

Sometimes, sometimes you love someone so much it eats you raw.

If he were to pinpoint the exact moment he started loving him, he'd have to take a second to recollect himself and his thoughts.  There were so many times, he recalled, that he fell in love with him. Looking back and knowing what he knows now, he realizes that he was probably in love all along.

Did it start the day they met? Or was it that first game together, that first connection they made, that first beautiful beautiful goal that paints the back of his eyelids to this day whenever he closes his eyes? Or maybe it was the day that he left. He never thought he would leave; he wasn't supposed to leave. It was going to be them, Marco and Mario, the two wonderkids taking on the world. But then everything went to shit (as it tends to do) and it wasn't _MarcoandMario_ anymore. It was Marco, and it was Mario.

He told the papers that he had cried when Mario told him about his transfer, (when you were that close with someone, who wouldn't?) but that wasn't true. He hadn't cried-he had sobbed like a little boy and all he could think was _why_. _Why was he leaving me? Am I not good enough?_

"But it was good," Marco had managed to choke out, taking in deep breaths. "We were gonna win it all, Mario. It was so good. _We_ were so good."

"I know," Mario's voice cracked. "I know."

"Then why?" Marco asked, desperation seeping out of every pore in his body.

 _Help me understand,_ he silently begged. _Give me a reason._

Mario didn't answer, instead fiddling with the label on the beer bottle he held in his hands, head down, trying to act like he wasn't crying and that this conversation wasn't completely tearing him up and eating him whole from the inside out.

"So that's it? You're just gonna leave me and not tell me why?" Marco was starting to get angry, tears drying on his chapped lips.  

"It's for my career-" Mario started feebly.

"Don't give me that bullshit. You could have a fucking great career in Dortmund, you know that right? The fans love you, the club loves you, the media loves you. What do you want that we can't give? Everything's here Mario, everything's fucking perfect, why are you tossing it all away?" Marco gripped his beer tightly, trying to understand.

Mario lifted his head and met Marco's eyes. ~~Those fucking gorgeous eyes.~~

"I-" Mario tried to remember his reasons for leaving ~~Marco~~ his club, his home, but couldn't find the words. He trailed off, biting his lip and willing the tears back.

Marco looked at him expectantly, eyes red-rimmed. When he realized that no answer was forthcoming, he let out a sharp, bitter laugh.

"So this is it. You're really leaving?"

Mario nodded and looked down again.

Marco reached over and lifted his chin up.

"I'm not gonna pretend to understand why you're doing this," he said and Marco realized how close their faces really were. He could see every tear track, every freckle, every raw emotion present on Mario's face. "I don't understand why you're doing this, but I respect your choice. I'm not saying I'm not angry and hurt about this, but I'm saying that I'll support you through it. You're my best friend and I'm sticking with you through all your stupid ass ideas and choices. You might be moving away, but you can't get rid of me that easily." Marco smiled a little after he had finished talking, one side of his mouth lifting higher than the other like it always did. ~~Mario fucking adored that smile and wished-no. Don't think about it (the feeling he got whenever Marco -). Wasn't that part of the reason he decided to leave?~~  

Mario stared at him with disbelief and hope in his eyes as if he had expected Marco to yell at him and say he never wanted to see his face or hear his voice again.

"I love you," Mario said, voice thick with emotion as he embraced Marco in a hug. (God, did he love him.)

"I love you too, Sunny." Marco replied, his head buried in Mario's neck. (If only-if only. But no. Mario was leaving so there's no chance of that now.)

Marco breathed in Mario's aftershave and fell just a little bit more in love.

-:-

It was weird, not having Mario around all the time. It was like he was missing a limb. During practice he would catch himself turning to his right, mouth open, ready to speak ( _"Oh my god, did you just see Erik trip over his own feet?"_ ) only to realize that Mario wasn't there and no one was standing next to him. Marco would shut his mouth and close his eyes for a second, trying to pretend that he wasn't upset. But he was and everyone could see it.

"Hey man, you okay?" Mats pulled Marco aside after practice one day. It had been a particularly bad day; Marco had passed the ball to where Mario ~~should've~~ would've been at least four times and had started to ask his teammates if they knew where Mario went before he remembered. (It was like taking a ball to the stomach over and over and over and God help him, he didn't know if he would ever be able to breathe right again.)

Marco shrugged. "Yeah, I'm just a little tired is all."

Mats looked at him as if he didn't quite believe him. Marco painted on a fake smile.

"Okay, whatever you say." Mats hugged Marco before heading off to his car.

Marco slid into the driver's seat of his car and tried not to think about how Mario should be right beside him, fiddling with the radio stations, never staying on one song for its entirety. Marco would get annoyed (" _Seriously, just leave it on this station Mario._ Mario _."_ ) and Mario would just grin at him, flipping through the stations once more before Marco would get fed up and turn the radio off completely. They would spend the rest of the ride home talking about nothing and everything and these little chats had meant more to Marco than he could say.

Marco sighed and closed his eyes, resting his forehead on the steering wheel.

It wasn't like Mario was dead; he could still call and text and Skype him, but it wasn't the same. Marco felt off-balanced and incomplete without Mario at his side and he shouldn't be feeling this way (no one on the team was as affected by Mario's leaving as he was) but Mario was his best friend, dammit, and he was still adjusting to this Mario-less life he was having to lead. It wasn't Mario and Marco against the world anymore. It was just Marco and he had never felt so alone.

Marco turned on his car and drove home, flipping through the radio stations every couple of seconds.

He felt like hell.

-:-

"Reus! What the hell was that shit?" Klopp yelled at him during practice after he had missed an open goal.

"Sorry coach." Marco mumbled, shaking his head a little. He'd been off his game ~~ever since Mario left~~  recently.

Marco hadn't spoken with or texted Mario in a week and he knew that both of their schedules were busy but couldn't Mario just take a second to respond to his messages? Marco had spent the past couple nights staring at his phone wishing it would ring and Mario's face would pop on the screen. It didn't ring and it would be 4 AM before Marco acknowledged the fact that this wasn't healthy or normal. He would toss his phone across the room and sleep fitfully, always listening for the special ring tone assigned to Mario even in his sleep. 

To put it shortly, Marco was a fucking wreck.

"Reus, come over here." Klopp demanded, pulling Marco out of his thoughts.

He complied, trotting over to his coach while rubbing his eyes.

"What's the matter, Marco?" Klopp asked, resting his hand on Marco's shoulder.

"Haven't been sleeping well lately." Marco replied honestly, leaving out the reason why he was on the fast track to becoming an insomniac.

Klopp sighed. "We all miss him. Go home and get some rest. We've got a big game ahead of us next weekend and I need you at your best. You'll see him then."

Marco smiled gratefully at his coach before heading to the locker room to change.

He tried not to think about the game next Saturday; he tried not to think about how, for the first time ever, he'd be playing _against_ Mario and not with him. The thought of being on a different team than Mario was okay, he could stomach that, it was weird and unnerving but bearable, but the thought of playing against Mario, the thought of celebrating a win while Mario nursed a loss or vice-versa, that made him sick. The thought of not hip bumping Mario when either of them scored a goal, the thought of not gripping Mario's neck and smiling so hard it hurt when they won together, the thought of not celebrating, of not mourning, with Mario, those thoughts hurt more than Marco believed possible.

He rushed into the bathroom and promptly threw up.

After he was done, he slid down the cool tile wall and wiped the sweat from his brow.

He wasn't reacting to this separation from Mario normally, Marco realized that, but he didn't know what the reaction of a normal person in his situation would be. He was more affected by Mario's transfer than he thought he would be and he didn't know what to do or think because there were all these different memories and instincts and thoughts that crowded around his head and they were all about _Mario Mario Mario_ and if he could just shut his brain up for one second, if he could just forget about Mario for a couple of minutes, he thought that he would be okay. He could move on and he go back to normal. But he couldn't stop thinking about Mario (couldn't stop thinking about him ever since they met for the first time) and it's been three months without him already and Marco doesn't know if it'll ever stop hurting.

God, Mario. Marco missed him like he would football if he could never play again.

That thought startled Marco. Football was his first love; the only true constant in his life (Mario had been a constant until-). He missed Mario like he missed playing football when he was injured and that thought scared him and he thought that he might throw up again.

Robert walked in the bathroom, saw Marco sitting on the floor with his head in his hands and nudged him with his cleated toe.

Marco looked up.

"You're in love with him, you know." Robert said as casually as he would if he was telling Marco the sky was blue.

"What?" shocked, Marco let his hands drop uselessly to his side.

Robert shrugged. "It's pretty obvious. I drew the short straw and was elected the one to come in here and make sure you knew that."

"What," Marco managed to get out, his voice strangled. "are you talking about."

"Mario." Robert said simply, as if that explained everything (and it kind of did). "You've been off and moping around ever since he left. Sure, we all miss him, but with you it's like you're missing a limb. You look so confused and out of it all the time. We wondered when you were gonna snap out of it, but it's been three months and you're still in this weird funk. We figured out that you didn't realize that you were in love with him so. Here we are. Well," he corrected himself. "here I am. But the rest of the team is here in spirit, if you know what I'm saying."

"I'm not in love with Mario." Marco's voice shook.

"Sure you're not." Robert gave him a look and then left.

Marco wasn't in love with Mario. Sure, he loved him, but not like that. Mario had a girlfriend for christssake! Also, Marco would know if he was in love with someone. He's not stupid or ignorant; he knows what love is and what it feels like.

But then again, Marco did feel like a better person when Mario was around (and wasn't that what love is-making the other person better?). Mario made him feel complete and like he could do anything and everything. Mario was his rock, his best friend, the one who knew him inside and out. He knew all of Marco's bad habits and nervous ticks and still stuck by his side. Mario made Marco feel like he was actually doing something right with his life and when he looked at him, he felt breathless.

Okay, Marco conceded, maybe he was a little in love with Mario after all.

-:-

It was hard, being in love with your best friend.

Mario had finally responded to Marco's texts and tried calling him a couple times but Marco never answered. He watched his phone ring and ring, listened to the Justin Bieber ringtone he had set for Mario and never mustered up the courage to answer.

He was scared shitless, Marco admitted. He didn't know what to do. The sudden revelation that he may-or-may-not-be-(but probably was)-in love with his straight, taken best friend shocked and unsettled him. Marco knew he should carry on like nothing had changed between them, but suddenly it was so hard to look at Mario's face and not want to kiss him.

Marco thought about that a lot-kissing Mario. He thought about it more than he was proud of, but he couldn't stop imagining it. He would bet anyone anything that Mario was a fucking fantastic kisser, with his full lips and-(this was the point where Marco would mentally slap himself and tell himself to cut it out).

So yeah, life was pretty rough for Marco. He still wasn't sleeping (because of Mario) and not talking to Mario (because of himself). He spaced out during practices and played like shit.

Klopp had pulled him aside after training on Monday and said that Marco wouldn't start the game on Saturday if he didn't pull his shit together. During the course of the week Marco had managed to pull himself together enough to prove to his coach that he was mentally prepared to play (even if he really wasn't). Klopp had nodded his approval and Marco knew he'd be facing Mario on the pitch. The thought made his stomach turn.

Being in love with someone unattainable sucked and Marco wouldn't recommend it to anyone.

-:-

It was Saturday, the day of the Bayern-Dortmund match.

Marco couldn't remember much of the game to be honest; he vaguely recalls scoring and celebrating but that's about it. Mario was forefront on his mind and when he got subbed in for Bayern in the second half, Marco felt his heart stop.

It was awful, playing against Mario.

Marco was unsettled and a wreck the second half, unable to stop his gaze from wandering over to Mario every couple of seconds.

Sometimes Mario was looking back at him and their eyes would meet and Marco wondered if Mario could see the devastation in his eyes.

After the match was over and Dortmund won, Marco knew he couldn't avoid Mario any longer. He took a few unsteady steps toward the other boy, mind racing and gut clenching.

Mario turned towards him and met his eyes and his whole face lit up like it was the fucking sun or some shit and all Marco could think was _holy fucking shit I'm in love with Mario fucking Götze._

Mario raced over to him and jumped into Marco's arms, burying his face into his neck.  ~~If Marco could just stay like this forever with Mario in his arms-~~

"I've missed you so much." Mario mumbled, his voice muffled against Marco.

Marco squeezed him tighter. "I've missed you more, Sunny."

Marco felt himself fall deeper in love with Mario and wanted to kick himself for being such a fucking idiot.

-:-

Mario asked him to come grab a beer after they both got changed and Marco had accepted without a second thought. Now, sitting in the locker room, he was starting to freak out.

"Calm down," Mats put a hand on Marco's shoulder. "It's just Mario."

But it wasn't _just Mario_. It was _Mario_ , if that made any sense. There was no "just". Mario wasn't just some other former teammate who wanted to catch up; this was _Mario_. This was Marco's best friend and the most important person in his life (besides his mom, of course). This was _Mario_ ; Mario who made Marco's stomach tie up in knots and thoughts scramble with just a smile. This was _Mario_ ; Mario whom Marco was in love with.

He wanted to throw up.

-:-

It was just like old times except Marco was in the passenger seat and Mario was the one driving.

Marco fiddled with the radio, flipping through the stations to give his hands something to do. He kept his eyes fixed ahead, not letting himself look at Mario because he knew if he did, then he wouldn't be able to look away.

"That was a good game." Mario said as they pulled out of the Allianz Arena's parking lot.

"Yeah." Marco replied. It had been a good game. Both teams fought hard until the end but the victory was bittersweet (Marco tried to not think about how heartbroken Mario looked after the game-and wasn't that fucking ironic? Mario ~~left him~~ left the team to be on a better one and still, his old club pulled out ahead. Marco had felt a small stab of pleasure that Mario had lost because he deserved it. He deserved this pain; he deserved to feel a little bit like Marco had felt these past three months).

"Where do you wanna go?" Mario asked, breaking the strained silence. (What had happened to them?)

Marco shrugged. "You know Munich better than I do." he said, a hint of bitterness creeping into his voice.

Mario sighed. "Let's just head back to my place. I have beer there."

"Okay." Marco agreed, still flipping through radio stations. (He almost couldn't stomach the irony of his actions.)

He tried not to think about the fact that this was the first time he'd be alone with Mario in a couple months. (He failed.)

-:-

Mario's place was nice. It didn't have that homey feel like his place back in Dortmund did, but it was nice.

Mario was currently grabbing a couple of beers out of his fridge while Marco sat at the kitchen counter, kicking his legs and looking at anything but the younger boy.

"So what's up?" Mario asked, bringing the beverages over.

Marco shrugged. "Same old. You know how it is."

Mario stared at him as he sipped his beer. _(Don't think about the way his lips curl around the bottle, don't think about how good he looks right now, don't think.)_

"What about you?" Marco asked, trying to ignore the awkward formal tone this conversation had.

"Same old," Mario parroted Marco's words back to him. Marco smiled a little. "No, but I actually like it here. Everyone's nice, the city's great, fans are good, but it's not Dortmund, you know?"

Marco nodded. _It's not home,_ he wanted to say. "I know how that is." But he didn't.

"I broke up with Ann-Kathrin a little while ago, so there's that too I guess." Mario said casually.

"What?" Marco blurted out, startled.  ~~Maybe,~~

"Yeah," Mario played with the label on his beer. "It was mutual. We drifted apart and had been for some time. It's okay. I'm okay."

Marco felt a shot of joy run through his body and he was the worst best friend ever but he couldn't even bring himself to care.

"You never told me." He said dumbly.

"It never came up." Mario replied, lifting a shoulder.

"I'm your best friend! I shouldn't have to ask about these things; you should just tell me!" Marco gripped his beer tightly to mask the shaking of his hands.

"So you're my best friend, huh?" Mario sneered, his expression suddenly turning bitter.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Marco demanded, hurt. 

"You've been avoiding me all week! You don't answer my calls or texts! I ask you if you're okay and you say you are but then I get a text from Mats later that says you look like hell! You don't talk to me anymore, Marco, not really. And I don't know what I did wrong." Mario's expression was a mixture of hurt and sadness. "I don't know who you are anymore and it's killing me."

"Don't you say that." Marco started. "Don't you fucking say that. You know me better than anyone else. You know me better than I know myself. God, Mario I-"

"Then tell me what the fuck is going on with you!" Mario exploded. "Why do you look like you haven't slept in weeks? What the fuck is-"

Marco leaned forward and silenced Mario by pressing his lips to his.

Mario made a confused noise in the back of his throat and froze. Marco pulled away, devastation and heartbreak written all over his face.

_I've fucked it up again and now the only good thing in my life is gonna leave holy shit I'm so fucking-_

"I should go." he got up abruptly and started for the door.

"Marco wait!" Mario cried, grabbing him by his shoulder.

Marco wouldn't look him in the eye.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me, I'm sorry Mario, I really, really am-"

"Will you just shut up you fucking idiot."

Marco looked at him in surprise. Mario grabbed his face and pulled his lips down to his.

 _Mario's kissing me._ Marco thought frantically. _Mario's fucking kissing me._

Snapping out of his shock, Marco cupped Mario's face with his hands, shivering when Mario buried his hands in his hair.

The kiss was sloppy with too much clashing of teeth and nose bumping, but it was the best fucking kiss Marco had ever had.

A couple seconds later, Marco pulled back.

"Are you sure this is okay-" he started, breathless.

Mario opened his eyes and grinned up at him.  

"Shut the fuck up and kiss me again."

Marco smiled back at him and complied.


End file.
